


D: Drown

by brokxnharry



Series: Teen Wolf A-Z Challenge (with songs) [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Derek Hale Never Left, Episode: s05e11 The Last Chimera, F/M, M/M, Mentions of Nogitsune, Mentions of Stydia, Other, Post-Episode: s02e04 Abomination, Scott is a Good Friend, Stalia never happened, Temporary Character Death, Theo is an ass, derek knows cpr, kira never left either, mentions of mama stilinski, referenced sterek, scott messes up though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 15:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11580501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokxnharry/pseuds/brokxnharry
Summary: Lydia screamed, somewhere by the lake, and Stiles found her drowning, with three holes on her neck, and a body that was no longer moving. He didn't have to think before jumping in.





	D: Drown

**Author's Note:**

> Song: Dive Deep - Andrew Belle

Something brought Stiles back from his sleep, a sound, a movement somewhere beside him. He groaned, blindly moving his hand around to make it stop. He opened a single eye, noticing that it was dark outside, too dark for it to be morning anytime soon. He noticed his phone still vibrating away, as he put it between his ear and the pillow he slept on.

" It's too late for whatever this is."

" Stiles, listen up. I think this might be important." His dad sounded weary, but firm. Like he was trying not to let his official role slip, trying to keep it together.

" What, what's wrong, dad? Are you okay?" Stiles lifted himself, sobered up by the trembling in his dad's voice.

" We got a call, from someone that was driving out of town, by the lake that's in the middle of the woods, you know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

" Yeah, yeah, dad, of course, I know where the lake is." Stiles rolled his eyes because he spent years upon years out there in those woods, exploring, fetching for leads, or puzzles, or anything to redirect his excess energy to. Did his dad forget the whole –finding a body that was killed by an alpha werewolf that bit his best friend turning him into a werewolf- thing?

" Okay, so they said they heard something. Like a scream. We, I think it might be your friend. Lydia."

" What?" He sounded breathless, like the words were blocking his airway, captured somewhere down his throat, " I'm heading there now." He stood up, willing the world to tilt back into place.

" Be careful, Stiles. And call someone. Don't head there alone, and don't do anything stupid, please."

Someone was dead. Or dying. Or, about to die. And Stiles couldn't. He couldn't see another loss, watch grief finding its home in someone else's heart, in the way they carried themselves, in their **_being_**. Couldn't think of a lonely kid, or a broken up parent, without thinking of himself or his dad or, or Derek. And, hadn't their misery been enough? Couldn't it spare the rest of them?

" I love you, dad." He was running down the stairs, the keys to his Jeep in one hand, his phone in the other. Both trembling with something or the other.

" I love you too, kiddo. See you there."

He blindly dialed Scott's number, the sense of replacement that he'd been feeling disregarded, replaced by an ache for his best friend, his brother, whom he'd only ever known life with him, through him. He didn’t care if he'd fallen in love and left him behind. He didn't care if he found it terribly easy to trust everyone else but not him. He didn't care how far they'd drifted or how sometimes it felt like they didn't know each other anymore. He just needed him to be okay. To be out there, somewhere, and not in a hole, decaying into nothing.

" Someone better be dying."

" Oh thank God. You're okay." His breath was as broken up as he felt, fingers now holding onto the steering wheel, like he feared he'd float away. Escape, without really meaning to. He told him what he knew from his dad, Scott told him that he'd call Malia and Kira and meet him there, that he should call Derek too. Scott sounded like he wanted to say something else, something **_more_** , but it never really came. Stiles wondered if he could smell the disappointment on him through the phone.

He then dialed Derek's number, once, twice, before his tired voice filled the air, releasing anxiety's grip on Stiles, if only a little. He could almost breathe now. Stiles saw the lake nearing, and tried to shake the sense of doom setting in. The finality that was clouding over them, demanding to brush against someone. Someone would have a touch with what felt like the end, and he couldn't help but think of who it would be. Who would die and leave in his wake remains of human beings that had once loved and had forever lost? Who would be demolished to dust and bones and a stone that people spoke to and blamed for what happened? Who would-

He threw his phone somewhere, almost missing Derek's voice that was calling his name, telling him to wait till someone got there, as he left the car by the road, running down the grassy road, towards the bridge on top of the lake. He couldn't see Lydia anywhere, but there was a shadow of something that was slipping away, and Stiles didn't know if he wanted to run faster, or slow down to an almost halt.

He thought he could hear his dad's sirens, could hear tires sliding against the road, and feet rushing through woods and roars that were meant for only a few ears, as he stood on the bridge, eyes frantic, voice calling for Lydia. Over and over and over again. He almost lost his voice, lost his breath, lost his footing, eyes falling onto a figure that wasn't floating, was almost sinking, with a hair so red, it almost looked bloody, and skin so pale, it could have been pelting away.

He put one foot over the ledge, then the other, pushing himself over, throwing himself away, without needing to think about it, almost, without really meaning to. He broke through the water's surface, that was so cold, it could have shocked the life right out of him. He could barely see, could barely feel anything other than his muscles stiffening, heart protesting in remembrance, in familiarity. He'd felt this before, when they'd gone under similar waters, to save their parents, but Lydia's hands were on him then, sinking him further, willing him to come back up.

He moved around, until his hands brushed against her, and he held on, pulling her towards him, pulling himself in, until her chest was against his, and she was so impossibly close, he could have kissed her. But her eyes startled open, and her fingers clawed at his chest, and her mouth released a soundless scream. Stiles tried. He tried to swim up, to kick his legs, to move his arms, to allow the water to carry them until they were floating. But Lydia was clinging to him, hands that were always so careful, so kind and comfortable, now feeling like chains, tugging him to where he assumed the end laid. She was climbing, laying her weight on top of his, like she knew that only one of them would make it out. Like she was trying to drown something right out of him. Drown him whole.

Slowly, almost, achingly so, his legs stilled, arms spread somewhere beside him, as he allowed Lydia to go. Allowed her to break through the surface, giving a final push to his stomach, almost to his chest, where his heart was easing its way to a stop. His lungs felt heavy, like they were about to burst with all the water he'd swallowed. Eyes wide, marveling upon how the serene water, seemed to be raging with waves, pulling him into its bottomless embrace, welcoming him home.

He thought he could see his mother, looking like a figure of water and light that could disperse into something else completely. She was smiling, like she'd missed him. Like she'd been waiting for him. He wanted to tell her that his dad wouldn't be able to make it on his own. That he had to go back, if only for him. But she looked so hopeful, so welcoming, he almost didn't want to leave.

He could have cried for his father. For Scott, whom he'd leave, without telling him that he was sorry, that he loved him so much, it damn near killed him to lose him to someone else. For Derek, who'd lost and lost and would still have to lose more. For Lydia, who'd probably blame herself, although, she'd made it. She'd survived. Which was all Stiles had ever wanted. All he'd ever cared for.

The water was everywhere, it felt like it was wiping his tears away, touching his face, brushing against his skin, telling him that it was okay. He could close his eyes now. There was nothing left for him to see. And he did, bubbles no longer coming through his mouth, air nowhere near him, shying away from all the water, that had drowned the last breath he had. Had immersed him, filling all his holes up to the brim. There were no empty spaces inside him. No voids. He was so incredibly full. Overflowing. And everything just… stopped.

 

" Stiles!" He heard something like a broken roar, like a choked gasp, feeling arms around him, and he thought they were carrying him to his grave, when they were holding him to a chest, that was beating with a heart, so erratic, like it was running away from something, chasing after someone. He was coughing, choking, drowning. There was too much water, too much that he needed to rid himself of, but his throat was too tight, and his mouth was too small, and he could feel it all lumping somewhere inside him. He felt disconnected, like he was still, so far away, from his arms that were trembling somewhere beside him, and his legs that were spread out, unmoving, and his chest that was still sinking in the place where it was meant to connect, swimming with thoughts of looming death and claws and water too heavy.

" Is he, is he okay? Is he breathing?" That voice, wasn't so soundless after all. Only a little strangled, like it was held back by a cry or two. Stiles blinked, trying to see past his mother's outline in the water, and Lydia's figure floating somewhere he thought he'd never get to. He smiled, or tried to, patting at the arms holding him so tightly, he feared he'd break. But they only held on closer, growing more desperate.

" Are you okay?" His voice sounded like he was gargling, like he was speaking through water, like he was still under. But Lydia was sitting in front of him, with a blanket around her shoulders, and Malia's arms somewhere close, to give her warmth, and she started crying, shaking her head, trying to hide herself away. And it all made sense now. Her scream was for him. He couldn't help the surge of relief that filled him at that.

" I don't know what is it with you and water. Always jumping in to get to someone or the other." Stiles looked away from Lydia, looked up, tracing the arms that clung to him, to shoulders tense with fear, a face that he knew too well, that had been distant for a while, although, when it really mattered, was always there. Always would be there. He smiled, remembering holding Derek's body afloat, surrounded by a kanima, and so much water, that could have drowned them all. 

" I guess we're even now."

Derek had his head buried somewhere in Stiles' back, but he could feel his lips, forming into an attempt of a smile, could hear him, trying to breathe in the scent of life, of coming back, of almost okay-ness, instead of water that was as salty as Lydia's tears. His dad was there too, on his other side, only further away, like he'd fallen against that tree, carrying the weight of his collapsed figure. Stiles wanted to move, to go to him, and hold onto him instead of that thread of his mother that he wanted so desperately to follow.  

Derek pulled away, guiding Stiles' boneless figure into his father's embrace, allowing them both to crash into one another. The sheriff was crying, whispering words of gratitude to whatever had brought his son back, to whoever had spared him. Because he wouldn't have been able to make it. Losing Stiles, would have broken his heart right into a stop.

" Oh my God, Stiles, I thought I lost you. You, you weren't breathing and- your color. Oh God, you were so blue, so, I thought, I."

" It's okay, dad. I'm okay." He took in the scent of his father's embrace; a hint of sweat and lead and his favorite aftershave. He could almost smell home on him. And he clung to that, filing it away under all the reasons for him to stay. His dad soon pulled away, moving his hands to support the weight of Stiles' head, moving the hairs clinging to his forehead away, taking in how bright and kind his eyes were, even after all they'd seen and lived through.

" Oh, Stiles, what am I going to do with you? I thought I told you not to do anything stupid."

Stiles didn't know how to respond to that without wounding Lydia further. Didn't know how to tell him that she was dying, that she could have died, and he didn't **_think_** , didn't have to. He just needed to get her out, needed to do something to save his friend, save someone he cared for, and was in love with, for so fucking long. But the sheriff understood, because he smiled, all proud and hopeful, although, the terror still hadn't left his eyes.

Stiles tried to stand up, leaning against his dad, but he was completely wiped out, and his clothes were still weighed down by water, and so was his heart. Derek stepped in, putting his hands underneath Stiles' arms, pulling him slightly against his chest, although, he didn't really have to.

" I'm fine, I'm fine," It came out breathless, hazy, but Derek didn't call him out for it, as he helped him to where Lydia sat, shivering away, eyes still wide and horrified, like she was watching Stiles sink further and further away.

" Lydia," Derek sat him down in front of her. She startled at the sound of his voice, eyes falling onto him, for barely a second, before her face collapsed onto itself, breathless sobs making their way past her.

" I- I didn't mean to, hurt you. It- I don't know wha- what happened, Stiles, I-"

" Hey, hey, shh, it's okay. I know. I know you weren't all there. It's okay. I'm okay." He had his hands against her face, and wow, it was finally happening, and it didn't feel nearly as fascinating as he thought it would. It was better, in a way.

" No, Stiles, I- I screamed. You, you were dead. Because of me. I, I hurt you." Her eyes fell onto his battered chest, her hands moving, without really meaning to, touching them, willing them away.

" Lydia, they're just a few cuts, I've seen worse. They'll heal. The important thing is, you're okay. We're both okay." She cried harder, falling into him, her fingers trembling somewhere that hurt, but he didn't care, couldn't pay it much mind. Because his fingers moved through her hair, caressing past the back of her neck, where he felt three holes, oozing with blood.

His eyebrows furrowed, as he pulled away, angling his head so that he could see them, instead of just feel them. He looked up, between Derek and Scott, eyes falling back upon her wounds, mind racing with thoughts of who would have done this to her, and how late they were to have let this happen.

" Those are claw marks. It's the memory thing, right? Derek, that's what happened to you before? What Scott did with me, with the, uh, nogitsune?"

He felt his stomach turning, skin itching like it was still wrapped up in bandages, mouth tasting of metal, as a chill crawled down his spine. Scott left Kira somewhere with Malia, falling next to Stiles, inspecting the wounds, while Derek tried to tune in his senses, searching for a scent that didn't belong to anyone around.

" Yeah. They're claw marks, and they're fresh too. But who would,"

" Theo." Stiles breathed out, chest caving with bitterness, with rage. Scott's eyes widened, staring at Stiles and wondering why he'd never seen it before. Why he'd let it get this far. Why he hadn't touched him yet, hadn't held him, despite his heart aching in his chest, pleading for reassurance, for closeness, that he hadn't felt with Stiles for so long now.

" There's definitely a scent of someone else here. But it isn't a werewolf. Not fully."

" Malia," Scott turned, and she nodded in understanding, teeth falling past her lips, claws coming through her fingers.

" I'll follow the scent. See how far he'd gone." She announced, rushing away. Stiles still held Lydia against him, touching her face kindly, almost, apologetically, but her eyes were faded now, rolling somewhere at the back of her head, her body a heap of surrendered bones, laying tiredly against Stiles.

" She's hypothermic, and she's still losing blood. We need to get her to the hospital. You too, Stiles."

Scott stood up, bending to carry Lydia, but Derek put a hand over his, looking into his eyes, and merely nudging his head towards Stiles. And Scott understood. He couldn't hide behind his guilt, couldn't lose his only friend because his shame was too overwhelming, couldn't leave him thinking that he didn't care, that he didn't trust him. So Derek carried Lydia away, Kira following behind with a tender smile. And Stiles sat there, eyebrows furrowed, lips between his teeth, heart beating too slow, Scott wondered how he was still alive. He leaned down, laying a hand over Stiles' shoulder, and he sighed, his eyes falling shut, before he leaned into the touch, aiding Scott as much as he could. Scott had Stiles' arm over his shoulder, both his arms circled around Stiles' waist.

Stiles smiled, something of gratitude, of reminiscing upon the amount of times they each had to lean on the other. They walked past the sheriff, who'd returned to his officers, promising to follow them back to the hospital when it was all done. The sheriff had called it a crime scene, and Scott tried not to think about Stiles in a black body bag, with yellow tape surrounding the place he'd fallen, where his body laid, and white chalk lining his figure, like that could ever contain him.

" Stiles, I. I'm sorry. You were right. You're always right when it comes to people, but I just, I just really wanted him to be good. Wanted to have that piece of our childhood. Another friend, you know. But I should have trusted you. And I'm sorry."

" It's, alright, Scott. You just want to believe there's good in everybody. I can't be mad about that. But we can't let him get away with this. Lydia almost died, Scott. And we don't even know what he put inside her head. We have to stop him."

Scott's legs slowly grew heavier. It felt like he was walking through quick sand, his feet hitting against the ground and not really bouncing back up. He wondered if this was how Stiles felt; if his legs didn't find a bottom to hit against, if he knew he was drowning, but felt like he was floating.

" When, when I saw Derek, pulling you out of that water, I- uh, I couldn't hear your heartbeat. It took him seven minutes, of, compressions, and mouth-to-mouth until you- until you were back. And I, I don't know what would have happened, to me, if you- if this was it. If I lost you."

" Scott, buddy,"

" I know I've been a shit friend to you, but I want to do better, Stiles. I promise I will. You're my brother, man, and I- I can't stomach the thought of losing you. Of ever having to, you know, live in a world that you're not part of. I just- really fucking love you, man. And I'm sorry if I've taken you for granted. Won't happen again."

Stiles lit up, eyes glistening with something other than muddy lake water. He put his hand on top of Scott's head, rubbing his hair, burying his face somewhere between his neck and his chin, and Scott could feel Stiles' pulse, could smell the love on him, and he would have cried, if Stiles wasn't looking so radiant, so relieved.

" I love you too, Scott." He whispered, leaning into Scott more easily now, knowing that he'd be there, to carry it all for him.


End file.
